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06-06-2016, 09:31 AM
Syrena
let the water take me
She’s not entirely sure how Brisa has managed to put so much of this together on her own, on two legs nonetheless. Syrena’s half dead on her feet by the time they’ve finished, and if she’s being honest, she didn’t do that much. Though she’ll take credit for it anyway, because she needs credit. The entire point of breaking a sweat (and her back) is to start making something of her life, to try and move past what she was and become something, anything.
This isn’t really what she had in mind. She wanted something glamorous, something that let her sit in the water and relax. She wanted, probably, Isopia’s job. But let’s be real, she wasn’t getting that job (she'd have to learn respect, if she were to go speaking with Gods, and that might be more of stretch than learning to craft). And moreover, would it ever help her move past the ghosts of her sisters, the phantom moments when she thought she still had her siren’s voice?
No, probably not.
That didn’t change what she wanted. But at least, she found some satisfaction in this crafting thing. It was awful and she felt sweaty and gross and disgusting. But it was something. Something she had made, of all the hell-freezing moments in life. Something that, in a tiny flicker of emotion, she was almost proud of.
“Of course,” she says, voice still lacking much emotion, as if helping someone put a roof on a hut was no big deal. Which is a giant lie, particularly for Syrena. Doing anything other than mournfully staring at the sea was pretty much a cause for celebration in the gray mare’s life. It wasn’t much. But it was a start.
“What of the warriors and sleuths? Could they use some sort of practice ring? Something that could serve as both a battle ground but also a place to train the mind. A maze, maybe?” Her words are still deadpan, but perhaps faster than they might normally be, almost as if there’s some excitement in there. Not quite, but almost. Truthfully, she’s too exhausted to think about much of anything else, and she can hear the waterfall calling her name.
The mare waits a beat, letting Brisa respond, before adding. “Would it help if we both just slept on it? I wouldn’t mind helping some more, after a nap.” After a nice long bath. But she doesn’t add that part.
"words"
This isn’t really what she had in mind. She wanted something glamorous, something that let her sit in the water and relax. She wanted, probably, Isopia’s job. But let’s be real, she wasn’t getting that job (she'd have to learn respect, if she were to go speaking with Gods, and that might be more of stretch than learning to craft). And moreover, would it ever help her move past the ghosts of her sisters, the phantom moments when she thought she still had her siren’s voice?
No, probably not.
That didn’t change what she wanted. But at least, she found some satisfaction in this crafting thing. It was awful and she felt sweaty and gross and disgusting. But it was something. Something she had made, of all the hell-freezing moments in life. Something that, in a tiny flicker of emotion, she was almost proud of.
“Of course,” she says, voice still lacking much emotion, as if helping someone put a roof on a hut was no big deal. Which is a giant lie, particularly for Syrena. Doing anything other than mournfully staring at the sea was pretty much a cause for celebration in the gray mare’s life. It wasn’t much. But it was a start.
“What of the warriors and sleuths? Could they use some sort of practice ring? Something that could serve as both a battle ground but also a place to train the mind. A maze, maybe?” Her words are still deadpan, but perhaps faster than they might normally be, almost as if there’s some excitement in there. Not quite, but almost. Truthfully, she’s too exhausted to think about much of anything else, and she can hear the waterfall calling her name.
The mare waits a beat, letting Brisa respond, before adding. “Would it help if we both just slept on it? I wouldn’t mind helping some more, after a nap.” After a nice long bath. But she doesn’t add that part.
"words"
darya87 | larfsalot
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@Brisa
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